by CJ Brightley
It would have been polite for Hakan to go ask her father himself, but at the time his crown was still so new that we both thought it risky for him to leave Stonehaven. Kveta was an enjoyable traveling companion. She had a wicked sense of humor. I got more than one look of surprise from the men when I laughed aloud at something she said.
Tafari sent an escort to meet us at the border, and I expected Kveta would retire to her carriage for the sake of propriety. But she lifted her chin and said she preferred the fresh air and my company to sitting alone in the carriage. In a distant way, she reminded me of Lani, with her determined kindness and cheerful heart.
We made the trip in good time, though I didn’t push us hard. The Rikutan capital was livelier than it was on my first visit, and our long entourage of Erdemen and Rikutan suvari was greeted with cheering and song.
Tafari met us in the courtyard, and Kveta ran to him like a child. Their love was beautiful, and I wished for a daughter of my own to experience that kind of joy. If Tafari had been welcoming and courteous when I first visited Enkotan, he was twice as welcoming the second time. There was a great banquet that night with music and dancing and all forms of entertainment. Kveta danced with me, and though I was terribly nervous, I managed not to embarrass myself. Her father looked on with a smile.
I delivered the letter to him immediately, but he put it aside and asked to have several days to think on the contents. I’m sure he knew what the letter contained; Kveta had written him many letters over the months she had been in Stonehaven and no doubt had already told of Hakan’s affection.
At last, he spoke to me over a quiet luncheon in his beloved garden. “I am pleased to give my consent to my daughter’s marriage. Kveta has told me much of your king, and I believe she’ll be happy with him.” He spoke of the possibility of a pact between our countries, a promise of mutual aid in case of attack. I did not promise anything, but it was heartening that he thought it worthwhile to mention.
She stayed with him, but the wedding was arranged for some two months later, in the golden late autumn. The thought of Hakan’s joy at the acceptance of his proposal gave me speed on the journey home, and the thought of Riona’s smile made my heart beat faster.
I left the main company far behind. I pushed Kanti hard, but even so, one horse can only go so fast for so long, and I had to slow my speed near the end, when I was most impatient. I arrived just before midnight after riding all day in an early autumn downpour, drenched from head to toe, my hair dripping, my cloak heavy, and my boots filled with water. It wasn’t especially cold, but I was more than ready for a hot fire and some dry clothes.
I wasn’t expected for at least another week, so the palace guards were surprised, but they let me in and sent a runner for Hakan. I shook the water from my hair and one of the servants took my cloak as I waited. I dropped to one knee as Hakan entered.
“Where’s Kveta?”
“With her father. He gave his consent and his blessing. Here’s the letter.” It was carefully sealed and double-wrapped in leather to keep it dry. “Seven weeks from now.” I smiled, and then grinned when he whooped with joy. He threw his head back and laughed, clasped my elbow and then pulled me into a quick embrace, thumping my back with his other hand. He grinned like a little boy, and I laughed with him.
“You’re wet and probably cold and hungry. Go get cleaned up and we can have dinner together.” He was still grinning, the front of his robe damp.
“Oh, go back to bed.” He looked a little doubtful, but I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m boring tonight anyway. I want to change clothes, eat, and go to sleep, and I intend to be done in ten minutes. We can talk tomorrow, but I wanted you to hear the news.”
He smiled and flushed, laughed a little and looked down at the floor. “Thanks, Kemen.” Then more seriously, “Thank you. Goodnight then.”
Riona slipped into the hall as Hakan left, and I smiled at her and bowed.
“You’re wet!”
“It’s raining.” I smiled a little more.
Sinta chuckled and murmured something to Riona that made her blush before she left, leaving only Riona with me in the hall.
“I trust you’re well?” I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She held a lamp, and the light caught her hair with a thousand shades of gold.
She blushed and nodded. “Come. I’ll get you dinner.”
She walked with me to my room. Someone had already started the fire, and she fed it more wood. I stripped off my clothes behind a wooden screen and tried to scrub the mud away with a towel. The new dry breeches felt wonderful, and I ran the towel over my hair.
“Will you want a bath tonight?” Her voice carried over the crackle of the fire. She has a beautiful voice, soft and clear, silvery bright in a dark room.
“Just a basin of water. I should, but I’m tired. I’ll bathe in the morning.” I wondered whether she’d think I was disgusting if she saw me without my shirt. I was as fit as a man could be, but in the flickering lamplight and the dim glow of the fire, my olive skin looked nearly black. I was afraid, but I would test her. If she didn’t recoil in horror, I would have hope, and in another month or two, if all went well and my courage didn’t fail, I would ask her the most terrifying question any man can ask.
When I stepped out from behind the screen, she was lighting another lamp. “I’ll bring you some dinner in a moment. There’s wine here for you while you wait.” Then she looked up and I heard the faintest gasp.
I swallowed and tried to pretend I hadn’t noticed, stepping close to the fire and kneeling to poke at one of the logs. I hoped that at least she didn’t think me frightening, a dark monster. I tried to steady my breathing, feeling my eyes prick with sudden inconvenient moisture. Phraa. I’d been foolish to hope so outrageously.
“Sir? The king had pheasant pie for dinner tonight, if you’d like that. But I can make you anything you want.” She knelt beside me. “Are you cold? I can get more wood for the fire.”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
Riona stepped away and I sighed, still staring at the fire. I needed a shirt; I didn’t want to displease her any more than I already had. I wasn’t very hungry after all, but I was a bit sore from the ride. The dry heat of the fire stung my face and I closed my eyes a moment.
I felt a warm touch around my neck, across my shoulders, and I looked up.
“Sir, come sit.” She’d put a soft robe around my shoulders, one hand lingering, and was biting her lip. “You must be tired. What can I bring you?”
I stood to sit in the nearest chair, stretching my bare feet toward the fire. I coughed. “Whatever is easy.”
“Are you sick?” She looked worried.
“No. Just tired.” Riding hard in the rain sometimes gives me a cough, but it’s never serious. It would be gone by morning.
She stood by me a moment, then leaned over and tucked the robe closer around my neck. When my eyes met hers, she blushed furiously, and her hand trembled. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps she wasn’t disgusted.
I heard the door close quietly. Obstinate hope had already risen again. Perhaps she was only startled and not disgusted by my color. Perhaps she was only startled because I was a man with no shirt on, and not because of my color at all. Perhaps, I dared hope for one instant, she was actually pleased by what she saw. It was unlikely, but the thought persisted. Even if she wasn’t pleased, perhaps she wasn’t entirely revolted.
I woke to her gentle touch on my shoulder.
“Sir, I’ve brought your dinner.”
I blinked away sleep and smiled in surprise; she’d brought a spread fit for a king’s banquet. Fruit, pheasant pie, a lamb tart, cheese, almond pastries, beans with nuts, stuffed tomatoes, and half a dozen other things. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
“I guess I look hungry.” I pulled my robe closer and belted it so she wouldn’t have to see more of me than any shirt would reveal.
She smiled and blushed, clasping her hands together. “I wanted to be sure you
had something you liked.” She bit her lip. “Did you have any trouble on the road?”
“No. The trip was easy enough.” I coughed again.
She reached across the table to touch my hand, her fingers cool, slim, and pale against my larger ones. “Have some tea. The lemon might help a little.”
I smiled and sipped the hot tea. It was sweet with honey and tart with lemon.
“How long did it take you to get back?”
“Eight days.” I think it was a record, I’d been so impatient. My heart was thudding in my chest, and I watched her face as I said, “I wanted to see you again.”
“I’m glad you’re back.” She blushed as she said it. Then carefully, gently, she interlaced her fingers with mine. “I missed you.”
I bent to kiss her fingers, and when I raised my eyes to hers, she was smiling.
She’d put hot peppers in the lamb tart for me; she remembered I liked them. We sat in the flickering light and she asked me about Rikuto and about the journey. I reached across to touch her hand again, and she curled her fingers into mine. We stayed up far too late, but every moment felt warm and perfect. When she stood to bid me good night and take the tray to the kitchen, she ran one hand across my shoulders. I caught her hand and kissed it, and she smiled again, her touch lingering.
Hakan read Kepa’s latest letter aloud over lunch the next day. The Tarvil raiders were bolder, even venturing south of Fort Kuzeyler at times, and he’d been having problems with morale and with one of his commanders.
“What would you do, if you were there?” Hakan asked.
“If Captain Teretz is shirking, I’d confront him on it. It might solve the issue. If not, I’d court-martial him. But I can’t tell enough to judge what’s going on from that letter.” Kepa was unwilling to make specific accusations in writing, and I couldn’t blame him, knowing the letter would be read by the king himself. He didn’t want to destroy a man’s career unnecessarily, and it sounded like he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on anyway.
“And the raiders?”
“I don’t think Kepa…” I stopped. Now I was the one about to speak poorly of a man while he couldn’t defend himself. I amended my words. “I’m not confident Kepa has the skill to address the challenges he’s outlined. I may need to go myself.”
Hakan raised his eyebrows. “I can’t ask you to do that, Kemen. It’s not unreasonable to expect a man of his rank to handle this. Besides, your ribs still hurt, don’t they?”
I frowned and shook my head. “Not much. But you’re right, I’m not eager to leave.”
He glanced at me curiously, but I only smiled.
13
Riona
The Rikutan king appointed his younger brother regent and was coming himself to see his daughter wed. It should have been a joyful time, and we were happy for the two sweethearts, but for the servants the work was nearly overwhelming. As the wedding approached, we worked frantically. We cleaned the palace from top to bottom. We started preparing food. There would be hundreds of guests for the banquet and maybe seventy requiring rooms, some for up to two weeks.
Kemen sought me out in the kitchen or when I was cleaning, but he had his own preparations that kept him busy. Not only was there to be a royal wedding, but it would be the first visit of Rikuto’s king to the Erdemen court in living memory. Kemen would lead the suvari escort that would accompany the king and his entourage from the border.
They departed nearly three weeks before the wedding. He bid me farewell, and I thought he would kiss me. On the lips, I mean, not the properly respectful kisses on my hand he’d given me before. It was a good opportunity, and I would have been glad of it. I was ready. My heart leaped when I saw his tall form ducking under the strings of drying peppers and onions in the kitchen or striding through the halls. When he worked beside me in the kitchen, I snuck glances at his hands, swift and sure, and his face. Serious, intense, almost stern.
I hoped the separation would inspire him to be warmer, more demonstrative than usual. He bent to kiss my hand and smiled with his customary reserved courtesy, and then he was gone. I felt myself tingling with frustration, and I pushed it down. Surely, he meant to honor me, rather than snub me. But it was hard to feel desirable, when he had not indicated he was interested in a kiss. Not to mention anything more.
I missed him while he was away, and it hurt that I couldn’t imagine him missing me in return. In fact, I had difficulty imagining him ruffled by much of anything. I couldn’t envision him emotional or tired at all. Those first few days when he was recovering from Taisto’s poison seemed far away. He seemed to have boundless energy, rising before I did to exercise at dawn, working all day and speaking with the king until late at night, sometimes exercising again in the evening coolness. Every morning I found a flower in the handle of the door to my apartment. The gesture was sweet and romantic. Yet it might as well have been left by someone else; I had never seen his eyes unguarded, and rarely had I seen him laugh, though often enough I saw his warmth and kindness.
In contrast, I could feel myself becoming more tightly wound as the wedding approached. We worked to make everything perfect.
The Rikutan king Ashmu Tafari arrived with a majestic blowing of trumpets and prancing of horses, his entourage a pageant of color. Kemen rode beside him, and it amazed me to think that he was on such good terms with kings of two nations. The Rikutan king smiled at him with genuine friendship when they dismounted; apparently they’d had a pleasant journey. The king Hakan Ithel met the king Ashmu Tafari in the courtyard, a show of warmth and welcome that was both unusual and quite a good start to the visit. They’d never met in person, though numerous messages had been exchanged between them.
I didn’t see more of their initial meeting, since I was called away to bring refreshments to the drawing room where they would chat before dinner. They were already prepared, of course, but we waited in the hallway with trays of pastries and cheeses and wine, out of the way until they washed and settled in.
14
Kemen
I would ask Riona to marry me after the royal wedding. She was busy and tired, as were all the servants. I left a rose at her door every morning, buds for hope, larger blooms for my growing love. Pink for admiration and joy. A pale peach for friendship, my hope to know her better, to see deeper into her heart. Another cream, velvety rich, for her perfection. The deepest burgundy red for her unconscious beauty. When the roses ceased blooming, I found other flowers, lilies of all colors, blue salvia, golden yarrow. I didn’t know what they meant, but I hoped their beauty would make her mornings more joyful.
Lani seemed to be everywhere, running from errand to errand. The day before the wedding I rose especially early to do my exercises, because the day would be very long. When I finished, I wiped the sweat from my face with my shirt and rested a minute against the edge of the well, then went inside. I needed a bath, and then I would entertain Ashmu Tafari and his military liaison for breakfast. I turned a corner in the hallway and Lani ran headlong into me, bouncing off my chest and nearly falling. I caught her arm and steadied her.
“Sorry, sir!” Then she looked up and grinned. “Kemen! How are you?”
“Tired already. How are you?”
She was nearly dancing. “Excited! I’ve never seen a royal wedding! I hope it’s perfect.” She rubbed her nose. “You hurt.”
“Sorry.” I hesitated. “Where will Ria be this afternoon? I want to see her.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. She’s doing everything. Probably in the kitchen helping supervise the baking. She’s the best at it besides Joran, and for a wedding everything has to be perfect.”
“Thank you.” I wondered whether I should try to help or whether it would be better to stay out of the way. I wanted to see her smile, but the kitchen was already crowded. Perhaps it would be better not to bother her.
She served during lunch, and I smiled at her when I could, though Ashmu Tafari was intent on telling me a story of his campaign aga
inst the Tarvil some twenty years before. I caught bits and pieces of it. He’d had a good friend who was Dari, killed near the end of the campaign, but he remembered him fondly as a man of honor, integrity, and a mostly-hidden quirky humor. I wondered if that had helped me in our initial negotiations. Kveta smiled on my other side, speaking across me to her father, and I smiled to see her so happy. Riona reached over my shoulder to put out the plates of nut pastries and sugared fruits, and I tried to catch her eye.
15
Riona
The kitchen was too crowded as we all worked frantically the day before the wedding. Most of us had barely slept for days, and tempers were short. I was preparing trays of refreshments for the two kings as they watched an afternoon demonstration of Erdemen suvari in the courtyard. Joran backed into me as I was pouring the 317 vintage wine, and I dropped the bottle. It spilled all over the floor and down my one clean dress. I sniffled angrily as I knelt to clean it up. Lani tried to help, but she got called away to do something else. Joran stepped on my fingers and nearly fell over me as I tried to get the last bit behind him.
I gave up. The mess on the floor could wait for later. I finished the trays, my dress sticking to my stomach, and gave them to Sinta to deliver to the royal pavilion. I changed in my tiny apartment, scowling at myself in the mirror. I’d always thought I did a good job, but that day was one clumsy mistake after another.
I hurried back toward the kitchen, wondering if I would get a chance to have my own lunch, and I nearly ran into Kemen as I turned a corner in one hallway. He’d just said something to Lani, who was carrying two trays of refreshments for some of the other guests, and she was laughing.
“Sir, could I speak with you?” I should have known better than to try to speak with him then. His reserve could provoke a rock to anger.